I wanted long hair — the kind that flies behind you when you’re racing your bike or jumping off stuff you probably shouldn’t be jumping off. But there was one problem: Grandma.

She couldn’t stand the hair in my eyes. “How can you see anything?” she’d ask every time. That’s when I came up with the perfect plan: a mullet. Short in the front so Grandma could stop worrying about hair in my eyes. Long in the back so the flow could still go. A win-win.

Since then, the mullet has become more than a haircut — it’s a lifestyle. It’s gone from backyard trails to fancy family dinners, from bike helmets to bowties. Whether I'm ripping skids, wearing shades, or flashing a peace sign, this mullet leads the way.

Even Grandma has come around. Sort of.